Poor Sammy
by PassionatelyHiddlestoned
Summary: Sam always has to listen to Dean and Cas in Dean's room, because his room in the bunker is across the hall from his brother's. He's tried to put up with it, but just how much awkwardness can poor Sam really take? Destiel-centric. [In all the fandom's fanart and most destiel fanfics,It seems like Sam is always having to deal with destiel so I had to write this as an ode to Sam.]


Sam looked at the time. 12:09 AM. He sighed as he looked at his laptop screen, where he had been strenuously researching lore for the past few hours, determined to get even the tiniest of leads on the werewolf case they were presently working.

He lifted himself off the bed, exiting his room and walking down the hallway of the bunker to the kitchen, where he got a bottle of beer from the fridge. He figured he would be up for a while yet, so he might as well. Dean had gone to bed already, anyway.

He made his way back to his room, and was about to close the door, when he heard a noise from across the hall- Dean's room. He was about to call out his brother's name to make sure he was alright, when he hesitated, more sounds becoming audible.

**"Hnng!" "Oh, Dean..." **

Sam frowned for a second, then rolled his eyes. "Oh," the taller Winchester muttered, shaking his head and closing his door. Cas was over.

This had become a routine thing- the angel visited frequently, and not just for cases, either. Him and Dean were becoming... a thing. And hey, Sam had nothing against it. He was beyond happy that his brother had found someone he could be... er, happy with. And who better than their closest friend, Cas?

But there was a fine line, which Dean was coming extremely close to crossing. Sam had tried to ignore their shouts and bumps and creaks and whines and growls and grunts and god knows what the hell else. But it was becoming super annoying for Sam, not to mention it was freakin' awkward hearing your own brother going at it in the next room.

So Sam had invested in headphones. It was an ingenious idea- it had blocked out all the sounds. But like all good things in the Winchesters' lives, these beautiful saviours of Sam's domestic comfort were destroyed. Don't ask how, it was a pretty peculiar Djinn hunt.

Needless to say, Sam was left with the noises of Dean and Cas' conjoined pleasure as he tried his best to once more ignore them.

**"Oh, Cas!" "Oh, harder, Dean, harder!"**

Sam closed his eyes, and massaged his temples. Why the fuck couldn't they just get a motel room or something? But Sam knew that if he suggested it, a) he would seem like an unsupportive douche of a brother, and b) he would simply be answered with a very Dean-like response, like "My bunker too. Why don't _you_ get a room if you can't stand the sound of your failure to get laid as opposed to my friggin' success? Bitch."

So Sam decided not to intervene, not even politely. He tried to re-focus on his research.

**"That feels so good, baby-" "Oh!" **

Sam exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He decided to play a station from one of his bookmarked websites on his laptop, to overpower the noises.

_Here it is..._ Sam smiled to himself, _the Journey channel_. He was unsure as to how wireless internet even reached down to the bunker, but he wasn't one to question good things. He was the one who used it most anyway- Dean barely knew how to change his phone ringtone.

He began to lightly sing along to the song that came on, and cleared his throat as he went back to work. He was getting some good notes on how to kill this particular breed, when his attention was again interrupted by the notorious moans next door.

**"Oh, yeaaah!" "Ummph..." **

Sam sighed, grinding his teeth as he shut the lid of his laptop. He wasn't going to get jack done with this racket, and decided to just turn out the light. He rolled over, and in the darkness, he waited with baited breath. A few moments passed... no noises. No name-calling. No moans. No groans...

Sam smiled as he relaxed under the covers. Maybe they were finished. Maybe he could get some sleep. He never thought he could get this close to an equivalent to heaven, but this was it. Silent night.

Sam began to drift off, sending himself one last message. See? he thought, if you don't intervene, it pays off. If I had said something, they'd have probably just gone three more rounds, and werewolves wouldn't be the only things I'd be killing. All things work out for a reason.

He was almost asleep, when his eyes blew open after hearing something else.

**"OH!" "Yes, Dean, right there!" **

Sam's fist tightened. This was insane. He couldn't sleep like this! He pulled the covers back. Screw being a supportive brother- he would be a freakin' nutcase brother if he didn't get at least 4 hours of sleep.

He thumped out of bed, opening his door and taking a deep breath. He went over to stand in front of Dean's door, and knocked three times, loudly.

There was some silence, the rhythmic creaking of the bed stopped, and Sam put his hands on his hips as he waited for _someone _to open the damn door.

There were footsteps, and the door opened, revealing Dean with a trench coat wrapped around his lower half. Sam huffed, and gave bitchface #35, the Dean, So Help Me bitchface.

"Dean," Sam said, pursing his lips, "I have been listening to your friggin' sex noises all night long-" "Pervert." "Wha- no! I- shut up! I can't help but hear you guys! It's all I _can_ hear! You're louder than my Journey!" "You were listening to Journey? Loser." "Dean!" Sam huffed a second time, crossing his arms.

"I know that you and Cas are just having a good time. And hey, don't get me wrong, I think it's awesome, alright?" Sam said, eyebrows lifting earnestly, before changing back to the bitchface, "But when I have to hear_ that_ while I'm trying to research the lore, I can't friggin' think! I snapped! Can't you do stuff a little quieter? Because my nightly music is becoming, "Dean, harder!" and I really don't need that in my life right now. Or anytime, actually."

Dean stared for a second. "Ya done?" he asked, and Sam sputtered. Just then, Cas appeared beside Dean at the door, without warning. He was completely naked, if not for the blessed arm of the trench coat Dean was holding covering his area.

"Perhaps Sam is right," Cas said, looking to Dean. "He does live here too. And we haven't been the... quietest of neighbors," he said, grinning and sending a wink and a nudge Sam's way in attempt to make a joke. Sam smirked a little, and Dean narrowed his eyes as he turned back to Sam.

"We will try to... _revise_ the situation, and use our_ inside_ voices, teacher," Dean said jokingly, wanting desperately to tell Sam to shove his complaints where the sun don't shine, but refrained from doing so for Cas' sake. "I thought I was the teacher," Cas frowned, "That is what you told me earlier, right?" "No, no. I'm the teacher, and you're the bad student, remember?" Dean corrected, un-phased by the fact that his little brother was still standing there. Sam closed his eyes, holding his hands up. "Don't need this. Really don't need to hear this."

Dean looked back at him. "You got what you wanted, Sammy. Now get out!" Sam nodded, slapping them on the back. "Thanks, you guys. Really. I thought this would have gone totally different. I thought I would wake up tomorrow morning with a buzz cut or something." "No guarantees," Dean grumbled, and Sam stroked his hair protectively.

Cas smiled. "Good. We've cleared things up. Now... let's get back to work, baby," he said to the shorter Winchester, trying his best to sound sexy. Dean grinned, and kicked the door closed as Sam gave a small smile before closing his own.

Sam felt good after setting things straight. Now he wouldn't have to listen to them anymore.

**~~~2 months later~~~**

Sam put on his 100% soundproof headphones as he turned his Journey up to full, grumbling to himself. _Silent night, my ass_... *huff*


End file.
